Tales Untold, Volume I
by chinyemagne
Summary: A tale and a half now exist in this volume. Chapter One, The Exhibitionist...before there came Lila, there was Charla. Chapter 2, The Reel Thing...Helga gets a chance to try again after the Food Groups, with the tale of Leppy. Look! and enjoy.
1. The Exhibitionist

Standardized Disclaimer: I, Chinyere, under my pen name, Chinyemagne, hereby acknowledge that I do not own Hey Arnold! nor the characters that are referenced within, nor am I a hired writer with permission to use their names on this site. However, there is a likelihood that original characters will be created and portrayed within this text. Thank you.  
  
Chapter 1: The Exhibitionist  
  
Rhonda's and Nadine's POV:  
  
Rhonda:  
Oh, when she first came to school, well, lets just say I felt totally different about her than I do now. I mean, she's not too rich, but neither are all the rest of these kids here. But, for whatever she did have, she had fashion. I had to admit it myself---and I guess she had reason, considering she's been all around the world---supposedly.  
  
Nadine:  
Rhonda, I'm pretty sure she's been a few places. She told me herself that her family had to move around a lot, and that's the reason why she's ready to move now. She told me she'd lived in Madrid, Brussels, London, Paris...  
  
Rhonda:  
Yeah, whatever, Nadine. So anyway, like I was saying...the girl had fashion, no question about that. And she seemed nice, normal enough, totally able to fit in Simmons' class. I guess maybe all that time she spent abroad messed up her senses or something, or maybe she was accustomed to living somewhere off in the middle of the country, in the cornfields or something, where people didn't care.  
  
Nadine:  
Yeah, or maybe she grew up with a whole different cultural code or something, where something like that was okay. I mean, she didn't do it contemptuously or anything, and when Phoebe confronted her about it a few days ago, she seemed not to see anything wrong with it at first, you know? I don't think it was her fault...  
  
Rhonda:  
Regardless of all of that, Nadine, it's still pretty gross. I mean, she claims she's lived in America, at least when she was younger, and she's got no foreign accent or anything. And even if she was exposed to those weird, foreign lifestyles, you'd think she'd do a little research about the next place she lives, you know, etiquette or something. I mean, she does it everywhere else she goes. I don't think the fact she's lived a few other places is any excuse for what she did.  
  
Nadine:  
Yeah Rhonda, you're right...in a way.  
  
Rhonda:  
What do you mean, in a way? I know I'm right!  
  
Nadine:  
Okay, whatever Rhonda. But like Rhonda said, she had no indications that she was going to be...you know, that way. And I wouldn't have believed it if Arnold hadn't admitted it, you know, he's as honest as they get. And apparently, it wasn't a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, either, since Gerald testified to be a witness on more than one occasion. So now, I hardly know what to think about it. This is the first time since I heard about it that I was able to say anything about it.  
  
Gerald's Narration:  
  
Her name is Charla, and I won't disclose her last name, by recommendation of Phoebe, for confidentiality. So anyway, I knew that she was moving in before the rest of the kids did, because she moved into the house right across the street from my own. I mean, and even that was no big deal. I wouldn't even have met her early if my mother hadn't insisted on our whole family introducing ourselves to her folks. This was a Sunday afternoon that she was moving in, and I happened to be with Arnold at the time. Arnold sat on our porch as my mother lined up my father, Jamie-O, me and Timberly by size, like some kind of Sound of Music thing.  
  
"Okay, so this is my husband, Martin. And then, these are our children. Jamie, he's our oldest, he attends the high school here. Gerald's my other son, he attends PS 118, and he's in the fourth grade," I rolled my eyes, as my mother beamed proudly as she showed off the family. I glared back at Arnold, as he shrugged as if he really didn't see what was wrong with it. "And this is Timberly...she's my youngest. She's in pre-school now, four years old," Mom finished. She then beckoned to Arnold, who, slightly surprised, joined us in the lineup. "And this is Gerald's best friend, Arnold. He's over here enough, he seems like part of the family sometimes."  
  
"Mom!" I protested. I was really getting embarrassed.  
  
My mother smiled that indifferent smile at me. "Okay, okay Gerald. Only a little longer, and then I'll let you go."  
  
The family that moved in was a single parent situation. Charla had a father...we'll call him William, and two brothers, one around Jamie-O's age, and the other about Timberly's age. We'll call them Junior and Stephen. William shook hands with my dad, and nodded at each of the rest of us.  
  
"Well, glad to meet you all. It's so comforting to have good neighbors," he said, smiling. "So often, you move a place and people at first are friendly and then they turn a cold shoulder to you. I can't understand it." Yeah, he couldn't understand it then, and I didn't think that much of that comment...at the moment.  
  
Dad grinned. "Well, you won't have to worry about that here. These kids have a tight-knit little community around here, and I'm sure you'll have no problem. My kids can show your kids around, and I'm sure you'll all be adjusted in no time." While our parents continued to talk, Charla stepped forward from her brothers and addressed Arnold and I.  
  
From first sight, she wasn't bad to look at...okay, she was straight hot. She had dark brown hair, which she wore up in a tight ponytail, and she had curly bangs. She had on a v-neck tank top, a spring like skirt that came above her ankles, and cool shoes. I guess her smile was pretty, too. But, I'd seen a lot of pretty girls in my day, enough so I was conditioned enough not to be too impressed.  
  
"Hi there. You're Gerald, and you're Arnold, right?" she asked. We nodded. "Okay, I know my Dad said this already some time back, but I'm Charla. Your mother said you were in the fourth grade, Gerald. Are you to, Arnold?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.  
  
"Yeah, me and Gerald are in the same class," he said, as I nodded. She then squinted her eyes oddly at him before suddenly giggling.  
  
"Isn't that a coincidence-I'm in the fourth grade, too. Wouldn't it be funny if I was in the same class as you two?" she said, as she walked away from our porch. Arnold and I followed her.  
  
I glared at Arnold, and Arnold shrugged. I then said, "Yeah, sure, it would be funny." What was that little comment about? I grew suspicious of her then. I wasn't too keen on the giggly, inquisitive types. We stopped walking, waiting to see where she was going.  
  
Charla stopped in her tracks, and glared back at Arnold and I, and frowned. As if catching herself, she giggled again. Was this a habit or what? She walked back over to us. "Well, are you guys going to show me around the neighborhood or what?" Again, I looked back at Arnold and Arnold shrugged.  
  
"Sure, why not?" he said, raising his eyebrows at me before continuing on. "We can show you our major spots, and introduce you to anyone we meet along the way. Is that okay...you don't have to be back home early or something?" Arnold asked.  
  
Charla shook her head and grinned. "No, silly, why would I have a curfew so early in the afternoon. And besides, I'm not expecting you guys to take me downtown---I've been plenty of times. I just want to see your little neighborhood...I've never lived in the suburbs before," she said, keeping up step with Arnold. I strayed a little behind...generally I had to warm up to people before I got friendly with them. Arnold was my friend, and I was cool with his ways, but I couldn't handle acting so familiar so soon.  
  
It wasn't long until we were in Phoebe's part of the neighborhood. She was outside with her mother, repainting the siding. She was taking a break, wiping paint off of her face with the back of her hand, when Arnold, Charla and I approached her. Charla had seen me lagging behind, signaled for Arnold to stop, and waited for me to catch up. She then hooked her arm around mine. Okay, she was really making me nervous now. "Come on, Gerald, you act as if I have cooties or something. Is there something wrong?" she said, narrowing her eyes at me.  
  
Determined to not let her know my suspicions, I shook my head. "No, no, there's nothing wrong," I denied, shaking my head frantically. Charla then looked at her arm, wrapped around mine, and she let my arm flap to my side and giggled.  
  
"Oh, I see, you're one of those shy types. I understand. That's perfectly okay, Gerald, but you should have let me know before hand," she said, resuming walking with Arnold. "Just keep up with us, okay? I feel as if we're leaving you out." I picked up the pace, and stuck myself next to Arnold, who glared at me.  
  
"Shy, huh?" Arnold said, raising an eyebrow at me. Okay, so obviously I am not shy, especially when it came to girls. Arnold knew me...together we had even had run-ins with older women, and I hadn't been shy them. But Charla...she was too aggressive. Since I couldn't say all this in one look, I just shrugged, as we got closer to Phoebe's. I took this chance to strike out ahead of the two of them and address Phoebe. She looked slightly surprised to see us, and quickly wiped her hands on a rag before meeting us halfway.  
  
"Hey Phoebe!" I said, slowing my running as I met up with her. She smiled awkwardly, as she always did when she saw me. I could tell she was slightly embarrassed, being covered in paint and all.  
  
"Oh, hi Gerald," she said, putting her hands behind her back and looking at the ground. "Gee, I wasn't expecting you, or else I would have made sure I wasn't in this atrocious condition..." Phoebe could hardly finish until Charla was upon us.  
  
"Oh, so her name is Phoebe, did I hear correctly?" she said, picking up the pace and stepping up. She looked Phoebe up and down. "Oh, so Gerald, you're not going to introduce me or anything?" She then giggled, and looked down at Phoebe, as she was slightly taller than she was. "She's cute...is she your little girlfriend or something, Gerald?" Okay, she really caught me off guard this time. I stuttered a little, and Phoebe caught this and was able to fill in for my speechlessness.  
  
"No...we're just friends. Arnold, Gerald and I are all in the same fourth grade class," Phoebe said calmly, as if she didn't feel the little brush of coldness Charla had just served. I don't know about her, but I sure felt it. I think what Charla did next really got to Phoebe. Phoebe held out her hand, which she had just cleaned, for a shake.  
  
Charla glared back at Phoebe's hand, frowning at it, and then smiling sheepishly, giggling. "Well, uh, I don't know..." she said, turning down Phoebe's hand. "Well, come on boys, let's keep going. I know I'll see...um, Phoebe tomorrow, since I'm going to school," she said, hustling us along. She never formally addressed Phoebe, or formally excused herself. Feeling this awkward space, I looked back at Phoebe. She was at first confused, but I could see the anger raising in her eyes.  
  
I tried to fix the situation. "I'll see you tomorrow, Phoebe," I yelled.  
  
"Yeah, bye Phoebe," Arnold said. I saw Phoebe raise her hand to wave, before Charla jerked me around, putting her arm around my arm again, and speeding up. She then giggled at me, and smiled. She did not look back at Phoebe, at all, and apparently she didn't want me to, either.  
  
Phoebe's POV:  
  
Well, quite obviously, I was fuming after that little interaction with that Charla girl. Needless to say, I wasn't that fond of her from the start, so when I found about her little...displays...I wasn't too shocked. I was appalled, but not shocked. My parents told me to ignore her crude behavior, put it behind me, and I did...until the following day at school. I don't know why she had acted so coldly towards me when we first met, or why she continued to behave in that manner. She seemed to be particularly amiable to the rest of our class, that Monday.  
  
Phoebe's Narration:  
  
By recess, the whole class was crowding around her, asking her all sorts of questions. By that time, she was up to the fifth place she had lived...Madagascar. To me, it just seemed like a compilation of lies, and I isolated myself at the far end of the playground, trying not to be too conspicuous. The only one who noticed me was Helga, but only after she had left the crowd of kids gathered around Charla.  
  
"Hey Phoebes," Helga said, her usual salutation. I scowled at her, and I probably grunted. Whatever I did, Helga treated it as if I had actually responded to her. "So, how come you're not over there with everyone else, meeting the new girl?"  
  
I sighed, resting my hands on my knees as I sat against the wall. "I met her already," I said flatly, not raising my eyes to Helga. "Arnold and Gerald brought the wench over yesterday."  
  
Helga widened her eyes a little at that response, before taking a huge bite out of her sandwich. "Well, Phoebe, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a little jealous of the girl," Helga said, wiping the crumbs from her face.  
  
I had assumed a rigid position, and I was not willing to relinquish it. "Helga---why should I envious of that callous, smug, conceited, duplicitous..."  
  
"I don't know, Phoebes, you sound real jealous to me," she said, taking a huge gulp of Yahoo from her Thermos. "I have to admit, I've never seen anyone show as much interest in Hair Boy as she has," she said, looking back at the group.  
  
"Gerald!" I exclaimed, raising my head and then squinting in the direction of the huge group. She was putting on a show, standing on top of one of the benches in the center of playground with Gerald at her side, melodramatically leaning on him as she laughed at one of his jokes. Talk about the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.  
  
"Yeah, doi!" Helga said, rolling her eyes at me. "I mean, yeah, sure, she's fake and stuck up and all the other stuff you said, but she's got her own charm. Not to mention she moves a little quicker than you do..."  
  
"That's it!" I said, standing up, and throwing my lunch handkerchief on the pavement. Helga, slightly surprised by my sudden reaction, stood up from her spot on the pavement, gathered her lunch, and picked up my embroidered handkerchief. "I'm out of here. And Helga, I swear, if I here anything more about that Charla girl..."  
  
Helga chuckled at me, calmly. "Steady, old girl, steady," she said, joining me as we walked back into the lunchroom with our lunches. "If you really want me to, I'm sure I can sock Charla for you, real good. Would that make you feel any better?" Helga offered earnestly. That made me laugh, calming me slightly.  
  
"No, I'm sure that's quite all right," I then sighed, and smiled up at Helga. "Thanks, Helga," I said, as we closed the lunchroom doors behind us.  
  
Helga's POV:  
  
Well yeah, besides the fact that Phoebe was obviously madly jealous of Charla, I didn't see anything wrong with the girl. I mean, I'm not the one to talk about personality faults, but I know the girl wasn't perfect. She seemed pretty superficial, true, but she did it with class. I never would have guessed that she was capable of doing something so blatant, and I really thought it was some sort of sick joke until Phoebe told me about the whole Gerald and Arnold incident. I mean, how disgusting can you get? But before then, and before Charla admitted it herself, I never would have guessed. Not like I thought about that kind of stuff all the time---what do you take me for, anyway, some kind of freak? Just because I harbor some hungered obsessions about certain, football headed...oh, wait, I've said too much, haven't I? Let me shut up while I'm still ahead.  
  
Gerald's POV:  
  
Over a week had gone by, and I had adjusted to all of the extra attention Charla was giving me. I was no longer too suspicious of the way she was acting, and I began to grow used to it. I found that both of her brothers acted kind of the same way, except for the giggling, of course. Anyway, within a few days, after much gossip had gone around, she announced that I was her boyfriend, and I reluctantly accepted the position. Oh yeah, and at this point, Phoebe hadn't spoken to me since Sunday. But anyway, I came to accept that, and the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing. I mean, it had its perks. Her brother Junior drove me, her and Arnold to school everyday, and picked us up, escorted us across town, and looked after Timberly with his brother Stephen whenever we went out. And she insisted that I go out with her, constantly. To the movies, to the mall, to roller rink, to the park. I had no moment's rest, even when I was with Arnold, she would show up. This whole thing just drifted into my life as part of my daily reality.  
  
  
Gerald's Narration:  
  
It was a Thursday night, the first night. I was on the phone with Arnold, making arrangements for us to go to the next high school football game...without Charla.  
  
"Gerald, I don't know why you just won't give up," Arnold said, laughing. "Charla's going to find you...again."  
  
I sighed. "I know, I know...but, you can't blame me for trying!" I said, leaning back in my bed. "I mean, Charla's cool and everything...once you get used to her. And if anyone had to be my girlfriend, I guess I'd rather have someone who looked as hot as Charla, but---I don't know man!" I said, throwing my hands up in the air.  
  
Arnold laughed over the phone. "Well Gerald, if you really don't like Charla, why don't you tell her that? I mean, there's no use torturing yourself over something you don't have to go through. I mean, she's pretty reasonable, I'm sure she'd understand if you wanted more space."  
  
"It's funny Arnold...I thought so, too, the first day, and she did at first. But now, all of a sudden, if I say something to that affect, she'll just say something like, 'Oh Gerald, don't be silly,' or giggle or something." Arnold laughed at my Charla imitation. "I didn't even think she liked me that much, at first."  
  
"Well, Gerald, I still think you should speak up, unless you really like her now or something," Arnold reasoned.  
  
I sighed. "No, Arnold, I just can't do it---I can't break this thing off. Besides, I'm kinda getting used to rides to school in Junior's sweet car," I admitted.  
  
"You're a real romantic, Gerald," he laughed. "Well, anyway, I've got to be going. I think if you think about what I said, get some sleep or something, calm you're nerves, everything will be fine. Oh yeah, and Gerald?"  
  
"Uh-huh?"  
  
"Open up your window...there's a full moon out tonight. It's beautiful," Arnold said.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever Arnold," I laughed, before saying goodbye and hanging up. I laid back in bed, pulled the covers over myself, and closed my eyes. I attempted to go to sleep, but I noticed that there was bright moonlight shining through the crack in my shades. I groaned, got up, and attempted to adjust the black out shades to block the moonlight, but I accidentally snapped the shade upward.  
  
I covered my eyes, looking outside from the window, and I saw that the moonlight wasn't the only light that shone brightly. From across the street, at Charla's house, an upstairs light was on. As I began to close my shades, something caught my eye. I could see someone's figure in silhouette approaching the window. Before I had a chance to think, the figure pulled back the sheers and...well, I saw everything. Before I snapped out of my initial stupor, I saw that it was Charla.  
  
I quickly closed the shades, thinking that I wasn't supposed to see what I had just seen. That really scared me. But I was still curious, and I peaked out of the corner of my shades, seeing if she was still there. Not only was she still there, but it was as if she was fully expecting me, leaning out of her bedroom window. I immediately closed my shades again, falling to the ground below my window.  
  
I couldn't believe this---had I just seen what I thought I saw? I must have been in a state of shock, because I walked numbly back to my bed and buried my head under my pillow, hoping to forget the whole situation. But, Charla wouldn't let me, as she was there every night for the last few nights when I closed curtains. I was never able to look at her the same after that day.  
  
Arnold's POV:  
  
It had been three weeks since Charla had shown up, two weeks since she and Gerald were going out, and Gerald had begun to act really weird. I mean, I heard women could change a guy, but, gee, I mean, Gerald was acting totally different. I guess one reason was because Charla was around all the time, but besides that...yeah, I guess that was really it for Gerald. I don't know, I had known Gerald longer than I knew the rest of the kids, and I should have known something was up. I can't help laughing at the whole situation now, because it is kind of funny, seeing Gerald like that. I mean, usually Gerald is cool about everything, and he thinks he knows everything. But this was a situation that he truly did not know how to handle.  
  
Gerald's POV:  
  
So, after about a week and this kept happening, I couldn't just let it go any longer. I mean, I couldn't stand having to be around Charla all the time, especially since I knew what she...looked like. Arnold was treating me differently now, since I was so confused. And Charla, anytime I would hint at it, she would smile at me innocently like she didn't know at all what I was talking about. And I really couldn't stand being iced by Phoebe any longer. I resolved to tell Arnold and Phoebe all about my Charla problem. I laugh now because I remember the look on Arnold's face when I informed him about Charla's tendencies, or when he actually saw it for himself. I mean, usually Arnold has all the answers, but he was stuck on this topic. For a while, he didn't know what to do.  
  
Arnold's Narration:  
  
It was the Monday of the fourth week Charla had been there, and I hadn't seen Gerald all morning. For some reason, Junior hadn't been there to pick me up to take me to school, so I had to catch the bus and endure the taunting of Helga. Usually, I don't listen to what she says, but she approached me slightly differently today, and she was really concerned about Phoebe. So, I stayed around and listened.  
  
"Hey Foo...I mean, Arnold," she said, standing sheepishly above me. I glared at her, and she was rubbing her arm nervously. I never can understand why it is so hard for Helga to be nice. "You don't mind if I sit here, do you?"  
  
I shrugged. "Its okay, Helga, just behave yourself," I joked with her. I saw her crack a smile before she scowled at me.  
  
"I'm not here to be friendly, Arnold...it's about Phoebe, and I guess I need a little advice or something," Helga said, then looking out the window on the opposite side of the bus as it began to move.  
  
"Well sure, Helga, I mean, I guess I can help..." I began. Helga did not need to wait for an invitation.  
  
"Oh Arnold, it's terrible, simply horrible. Phoebe hasn't talked to me forever, and whenever I do manage to get a word out of her, its about how much she despises Charla. I mean, we've been best friends since at least kindergarten, and I hardly know how to handle this new moodiness," Helga said sporadically, clasping onto my collar. "And you don't understand at all, Arnold, I need Phoebe to be my best friend, and not some total stranger...I've got two of those at home, and, if I don't have some sort of outlet for my feelings, someone to confide in, someone's smile to count on every day, I'll simply go crazy! Did you here me, Arnold? Crazy!" Helga yelled, finally letting me go. The both of us looked around the bus, as so many people were staring. Even the bus driver was looking. Helga slowly sat down and folded her hands in her lap.  
  
I straightened my collar. "Well, Helga, this sounds serious. Did you try talking to Phoebe about it?" I said, trying to think of possible solutions.  
  
"Well yeah, Football Head, only a hundred times. I'm telling you, she wants that Charla girl out of here, or dead, one or the two," Helga said, pointing to Phoebe, who was sitting at the back of the bus, her head buried in some huge book. You could almost see the steam rising from her head. "I thought that maybe you could talk to your friend about it," Helga said.  
  
"Who, you mean Gerald?" I asked.  
  
"No, Arnold, I mean Wolfgang. Of course I mean Gerald. Crimity! Over who else would Phoebe be jealous about some girl," Helga said, now in a loud whisper.  
  
My eyes widened. "Wait a second---are you saying that Phoebe likes Gerald?"  
  
"Well doi, Arnoldo, you must be as blind as they get," Helga said, laughing and relaxing a little. "Anyway, yeah, I want you to get Gerald to try to talk Phoebe out of this funk, 'cause I've done everything I think I can."  
  
After this conversation with Helga, I did a lot of thinking, on how to approach Gerald about the delicate topic of his overbearing girlfriend without her being there. But apparently, I didn't have to worry about that, because as soon as I arrived at school, I was pulled into a closet by none other than Gerald. He pulled a broom to the door, and then turned on the light.  
  
"Gerald, why did you pull me into the janitors' closet?" I asked, finding myself standing in a puddle of spilled paint once the light came on. Gerald covered my mouth and hissed at me to shut up. He waited until the voices outside of the closet had passed before he informed me about his problem.  
  
He looked around the closet, and then sat down. "Arnold, I need your help. It's about Charla. And before you say anything, or make any assumptions, I need to tell you straight away, so don't interrupt me. The girl is crazy," Gerald concluded, sighing heavily.  
  
I shrugged and laughed. "Well, Gerald, I pretty much figured that..."  
  
"No Arnold, I'm serious. I mean, I know you must have noticed I was kind of shifty and nervous this past week, and it's her fault. I mean, that night, the Thursday two weeks ago, after I hung up with you, I went to close the window of my bedroom, and...well, let's just say I saw more than a full moon," Gerald said, his voice trailing off.  
  
I didn't know what he meant at first. "More than a full moon? What do you mean by that, Gerald?" I was truly puzzled.  
  
Gerald shrugged. "Well, what I saw was all Charla...I mean, all of Charla. More than I had ever planned to see...of her, or anyone, at least before junior high." Okay, then I got what Gerald was saying. Didn't mean I believed it though. I didn't believe it until Gerald convinced me to say over his house to bear witness to the event. So, it was about nine o'clock that night when I was rolling out my sleeping bag.  
  
"Gerald, I don't believe this. How could anybody do something so flagrant? Shouldn't she have been caught by now?" I said, sitting on the sleeping bag as Gerald sat on his bed.  
  
Gerald shrugged. "You'll believe it when you see it, Arnold. Then you'll understand why her father said their neighbors weren't friendly. I mean...Good Lord," Gerald said. He then looked at the clock. "Okay Arnold, my man...its time." He then turned off the lights, I guess so we wouldn't been seen, and he led me to the window, drawing the shades.  
  
"Give me a break, Gerald, she has a time..." but I stopped in my speech. Although I hadn't believed it up to that point, there she was, in front of my face. Just as Gerald had discretely described, although she wasn't the least bit discrete. My jaw dropped, and I just stood there for a long time, not wanting to believe my eyes, but at the same time...man...  
  
"Oh my Gosh," I was finally able to say, before Gerald finally closed the curtain in front of my face. I slid down Gerald's wall, him joining me on the floor.  
  
"Well, didn't I tell you it was bad, Arnold?" he asked.  
  
"I really wish you hadn't shown me that Gerald," I was finally able to say. We must have sat there for a few more seconds, before I was able to say anything else.  
  
"So, what do we do now, Arnold?" he asked.  
  
Suddenly, I felt like Grandpa. "I have no idea."  
  
Phoebe's POV:  
  
Well, it was a Tuesday that Gerald was finally able to pin me in a corner, where I couldn't escape or protest his presence. I mean, his whole relationship with Charla was taking a toll on my mental health. I finally stopped and listened to all that Gerald had to say, but nothing caught my attention more than how troubled Gerald seemed. Nothing was more powerful than the facts he revealed to me. The arranged dates, their required public appearances...her apparent exposures. I mean, I was shocked, but I believed it coming out of the mouths of Arnold and Gerald more than if I had seen it myself. I really wanted to help Gerald, but I didn't know how to...so I contacted the only person I knew could handle the situation of "girl trouble."  
  
Helga's Narration:  
  
I was in the middle of writing in my pink book about you-know-who, sometime Tuesday afternoon, when Phoebe called me up, and I could hear the nervousness in her voice. I was very hopeful when the phone rang, but I didn't want to show my eagerness over the phone.  
  
"Hello?" I said flatly.  
  
"Hi, Helga? Listen, I've got no time for small talk now. I need you in a big way, and I need no questions asked," she said. This surprised me...usually I was the assertive one, the one that demanded so much out of Phoebe, and her more than readily complying. Well that afternoon, if only for an afternoon, the tables turned. "The situation with Charla is worst than I thought. Not only has she been ruling Gerald's life for the past few weeks, and hiding her viscous ways under superficial smile and captivating the class into her duplicity, but...apparently she's an exhibitionist."  
  
An exhibitionist, huh? "An exhibitionist, huh?" I interjected. "What type of exhibitionist...the show-offy kind that always demands attention, the bragging kind, or...the extreme kind?" I asked, not expecting it to be too serious.  
  
"Try the extreme kind, Helga," Phoebe said. Whoa, I totally wasn't expecting that.  
  
"Ew, gross. You mean she's just streaking down the street or something?" I said, becoming appalled.  
  
Phoebe grunted at that comment. "Well, no, but she has been flashing herself from her bedroom window on a few occasions, and both Arnold and Gerald have witnessed it at least once. I figure that the only way to shut her down permanently is to 'expose her,' if you know what I mean," Phoebe said, the volume of her voice escalating.  
  
I thought for a while...wait, Arnold had seen it, too? Well, now I was enraged. Poor, innocent, Arnold had been exposed to filth through the antics of this trifling Charla? It's not like I like him or anything, but---how dirty can you get? At that moment, I knew that I would follow along with whatever plan Phoebe had. "Well, Phoebes, it's not going to be a piece of cake getting her exposed. I mean, if it happened in her bedroom, she could deny it. She can also accuse Gerald and Arnold of being peeping toms. The only way we can expose her is if somehow we get her to publicly fess up," I concluded.  
  
"I never said it was going to be easy, but it must be done," Phoebe concluded. "And Helga, I'm going to need your assistance. So, let me know now, are you in, or are you not." It didn't take me too long to decide.  
  
"You know I'm in, Phoebes. You can count on me for any of the dirty work."  
  
That afternoon, I made so many calls and arrangements. Operation Exposure was well underway, and I was excited. I hadn't thought up such a well devised plan since Operation Ruthless, which failed horribly. I had grown since then, and my methods had improved. Although Phoebe had a general plan in mind, she wasn't as devious as me, and she could not come up with some of the stuff that came naturally for me. I set everything up, hired a few people, paying them off in Mr. Nutty bars and promised seats to Wrestlemaina. And by 8:45 that night, Phoebe and I inconspicuously climbed onto Gerald's roof, and prepared to deploy my plan.  
  
"Okay, Phoebes, so this is how it goes," I said, smearing some of my black makeup on her face. "I hired the usual stooges...you know, Stinky, Harold, Sid...to make sure that Charla doesn't get to school on time. Meanwhile, you and I can get to school in time enough to get the rumor started. By the time Charla finally reaches the school, the rumor will have blown up so huge, it will take on a reality of its own, growing and becoming more twisted by the minute. She'll simply have to confess what actually happened before it blows all the way out of proportion, and she'll be forced into exile. How does that sound to you?" I asked, looking down at Phoebe.  
  
She was about to say something, but when we saw the light in Charla's bedroom turn on, we ducked on the roof of Gerald's house. "I have one question about this whole plan, Helga...what exactly are we doing here?" she asked.  
  
"Simple...we are the supervisors. We have to make sure this whole plan is carried out correctly. You know, so Stinky, Harold and Sid don't goof up or something. We also have to provide the physical evidence," I said, revealing my night vision camera.  
  
Phoebe gasped, obviously impressed by the gear. "Cool Helga...wherever did you get that piece of equipment. It must have been fairly expensive, judging from the weight of the lens and the superiority of its photographic capabilities," Phoebe said, turning it over in her hands.  
  
Yeah, I was proud of it, too. "Yeah, well, let's just say I borrowed it from Big Bob. I know he won't mind...too much. Besides, it was buried in the basement, covered in dust, and I'm pretty sure he can't even fit in the basement anymore," I said, snatching it from Phoebe, and brushing it off.  
  
"I sure hope this works, Helga," Phoebe said, looking down at Charla's window, which was still dark.  
  
I scowled at her. "What are you, doubting me or something! Sheesh, you're the one that came to me, saying 'Oh my Gosh, Helga, I need you're assistance.' Beggars can't be choosers, you know," I said, returning to a position on my stomach and looking towards the window in question. "You have to have a little faith in me, Phoebes, and then it will acutally work."  
  
"Okay, okay, Helga," Phoebe said, turning on her stomach and peaking over the edge of the building at Charla's house.  
  
"Oh yeah, and there's one catch to this, Phoebe," I said. "Arnold and Gerald must never, and I repeat, never know about this."  
  
Phoebe look slightly surprised. "Oh, and why not?"  
  
I sighed, looking at my watch, and sinking lower on the roof of Gerald's house. "We have to keep this thing top secret, that's why. I'm already running a huge risk letting Harold, Stinky and Sid into this, but their pretty dumb and they think they're just doing an odd prank for me. They don't see the big picture," both Phoebe and I grew quiet as we saw a light come on in the window in question. "I know men...I have to put up with a huge one at home. Gerald won't appreciate your help this girlfriend situation that he feels he can handle himself, and we don't want any loopholes to go through with that situation. And Arnold," I chuckled when I thought of him, "you know, as honest as he is, he'd probably tell Charla and her father or whatever the whole story, and we could actually get in trouble for this operation."  
  
Phoebe nodded. "You're right. They must never know," she said, the graveness of our plot finally sinking in.  
  
"Okay, so here's how it goes---or at least, supposed to go," I said, going by Murphy's law. "Charla comes out for her usual scene, we get the physical evidence. Oh yeah, and here is a checklist of everything that's supposed to go down. Got it?" I said, handing it to Phoebe. "Now, we get the physical evidence, and then we wait here an hour. At exactly twenty-two hours, the buffoons will arrive, and we hand them the goods---the IOUs for the tickets and the three packs of Mr. Nutty Bars for each. We then keep watch as they make sure that Junior's car won't start tomorrow morning, and that Charla gets on the wrong bus to school. That's a little more complicated. Then, we go back to my place and process the evidence, and then, on the bus to school tomorrow, we make sure the rumor gets started. Got it?"  
  
Phoebe digested it all. "I think so. But Helga, where does the hard evidence come in?" she said, slightly confused.  
  
I sighed. "It's blackmail material, doi! And judging from what I know about the girl, she's quick, and she's smart, but she's not smart enough to know that it counts for indecent exposure if you lean out of the window and make a spectacle out of yourself. I went to the police and asked them myself---it doesn't count when you're in your house, but leaning out the window does. It's real material, Phoebes...this is the stuff that blackmail is made of!" I said, getting excited. I then heard the window opening from the house across the street, and I nodded to Phoebe.  
  
"Okay, Phoebes, it's ShowTime," and I raised the lens of my camera. The Operation Exposure had begun.  
  
Helga's POV:  
  
Everyone's been too nice about describing the situation, putting it into terms way too delicate. The girl was butt naked, okay! Jeez, like we're trying to protect someone's innocence here. And it wasn't like she was just standing there, either. She was truly making a show out of it. It wasn't like someone undressing in front of an open curtain either. She was doing it on purpose! And I'm sure some of the other neighbors must have caught some of it, unless they all went to bed early. Whatever the situation, it was to outright, too in-your-face, to be lived down. Yeah, we got the physical evidence all right, and Stinky, Sid and Harold more than carried out the deal for me. I am proud to say that Operation Exposure went quite well, if I do say so myself.  
  
Stinky's, Sid's and Harold's POV:  
  
Stinky:  
When Helga called me up tha' day, askin' for favors, well shucks, I didn' know what to think about it all. The las' time she had asked me for a favor, I foun' myself caterin' to her every desire, bein' her boyfrien' and all get out. She tol' me this was gonna be differn' and she raised the stakes a little bit. This time, I would be geddin' three Mr. Nuddy bars, and later, a ticket to Rassle-mania. I mean, willikers! Yeah, this was completely differn' from wha' she wan'ed me to do before. I was completely willin' to carry this thing out.  
  
Harold:  
Yeah, the Wrestlemania tickets were what really sold me over, since I've got a whole months stash of Mr. Nutty bars in my closet...but don't tell my ma that. And it was easy! All we had to do was mess with the car in the driveway a little bit and change the sign on the bus stop outside of her house, so she'd think it was the one that went to PS 118, instead of the one that goes downtown. Ha, that was really funny! I didn't know Helga had such a sense of humor.  
  
Sid:  
Yeah, and no one found out about it either. Imagine that, we pull a few good pranks, and never got caught. But then we got to school that day, and it was Wednesday, and we found out all about why Helga wanted so much to play those tricks on that Charla girl. And I thought the whole thing was pretty funny. What was said again, I forget...she was and expeditionist?  
  
Harold:  
No stupid, and exhibitionist!  
  
Stinky:  
Wait, fellers, I'm confused. Wha' is an exhibitionist? I thought she just was one of dem galls that runs around naked all'a time, that grow up to be in dem magazines and such.  
  
Sid:  
Yeah, Stinky, that's what an exhibitionist is. And someone had pictures. Hey, wait a minute...how come we never got to see the proofs. That really should have been part of our deal.  
  
Harold:  
Yeah! I wanted to see them! I think Helga or Phoebe still has them...we could demand to see them, as part of our agreement or something.  
  
Sid:  
Yeah!  
  
Harold:  
Yeah! Or else...or else...or else what?  
  
Sid:  
Um...I don't know.  
  
Stinky:  
Gee, fellers, I don' think that Helga kept 'em. I think they gave 'em back to Charla when she was geddin' ready to move. And a shame, too...I really wan'ed to get a good look at 'em.  
  
Gerald's POV:  
  
The past few days I had been skipping the ride to school with Junior and Charla and I began to catch the bus with Arnold. For some reason, Charla accepted this and didn't question my reasoning. But, she paid me back double once she got to school...I had to make a scene of it. Well, this day, Wednesday, I was determined to break up with Charla and stand up to what I believed once and for all. What I didn't realize was that nature had already taken its course, and the inevitable happened...word had gotten out.  
  
Gerald's Narration:  
  
I boarded the bus that day and looked for my usual seat next to Arnold. To my surprise, Helga was there, and her and Arnold were laughing about something. Okay, whenever Helga was acting out of character like that, I really got suspicious. That Helga Pataki was a dubious character. When Helga looked up and saw me, she quickly moved to her seat with Phoebe, and I noticed both of their eyes were fixed on me and Arnold. They then began to laugh to themselves. I then saw Helga whisper something to Rhonda behind her, who then said something to Nadine. It was spreading then.  
  
"Hey Arnold," I said, me and him exchanging our usual handshake.  
  
"Hey Gerald," Arnold said, nonchalantly sitting back in the seat of the bus as it started up. The bus passed my house, and I noticed Charla standing at the bus stop...the wrong bus stop. I didn't think too much of it, though...I was just glad she wasn't on my bus. "So Arnold, what were you and Helga laughing about a moment ago?"  
  
Arnold shrugged. "I don't know...she was just saying some pretty funny stuff, that's all," he said, glancing back at Helga and Phoebe, who were laughing uncontrollably now. "I'm just glad that her and Phoebe are back to normal. She was so worried about Phoebe a few days ago...I had to help," Arnold said. Little did I know that, while I was talking to my man Arnold, a rumor was circulating around the bus. I didn't notice it until we had gotten off the bus and class started, and there was a continuous buzz around Rhonda's desk. She had apparently become the keeper of the rumor.  
  
It was before the bell rang in Simmons class, and Rhonda was sitting at her seat, with her legs crossed, eyes closed, dishing out the facts. "So yeah, I heard it all from a very reliable source. Charla is an all out exhibitionist, like no kidding," Rhonda said. She then instinctively waited for the gasps in the classroom. "Yeah, and apparently she's no novice at it either...from what I've heard, she's been doing it for a very long time. Sure, she uses all of the counties she's been to, her keen sense of fashion and her endearing demeanor to cover up her imperfections, but, I mean, My God! You'd think she'd do something a little bit more discrete."  
  
I looked at Arnold, and I was alarmed. He shot me a look, as if asking, 'Did you tell?' And I gave of a look of, 'Are you crazy! Of course not!' Well, apparently, Rhonda caught all of this and gave and continued her revelation. "And if any of you doubters don't believe me, well, I believe we have two eye witnesses among us," she then shot a glance at me and Arnold. I was able to keep straight, but ol' Arnold, ol' Washington "I cannot tell a lie" Arnold, blushed. "Ah-ha! I knew it! Arnold is blushing. That's a sure sign that he knows it's the truth. That Charla girl, she has been captivating us into a false charm, ridiculing us for our shortcomings, when she has some of her own," Rhonda concluded. Arnold and I looked at each other. Had this been the answer to my prayers, the last straw that would get Charla off my back, for good? I wouldn't find out this was the case until later in the day.  
  
Phoebe's Narration:  
  
"Well Phoebes, so far the plan is working. Now for the final element...the arrival of Charla. And by my calculation, if she took the bus downtown and is finding her way back, she should be arriving about...now," Helga said, looking at her watch as we gathered at the jungle gym. And, sure enough, as soon as Helga looked toward the door, who would walk into the playground but Charla. She had lost some of her smugness after her trip downtown, and her clothes were slightly wrinkled, but that was her alright. All of us girls by now were staring at her, after hearing of her nocturnal exhibits, and I heard whispers behind my back. Okay, it was time for the final phase of Operation Exposure.  
  
"Oh look, speaking of the devil girls," Rhonda said, calling Charla to attention, pointing. Charla wasn't expecting this, and stopped in her tracks. Helga and I stepped forward, and started looking Charla up and down, snickering.  
  
I chuckled. "I don't know, Helga. I wouldn't think someone so scrawny would have the audacity to carry out such flagrant criminal activity right across from trusting neighbors. Do you think it's actually true?" I said, stopping, and taking a step back from Charla.  
  
Charla, attempting to keep her composure, chuckled slightly. "What do you mean, 'is it true?' What's true?" she giggled, her cheeks flushing slightly.  
  
"She acts as if she doesn't know what we're talking about, Phoebes," Helga said, also stepping back and rubbing her chin. "Little does she know that we have the physical evidence." Okay, now she was really getting scared. She narrowed her eyes at us, not trying to keep up the superficial image much longer.  
  
I giggled in much the way that she had been doing all month when dismissing my presence. "You know, Helga, I think she must be ignorant of the indecent exposure laws, first set by the precedent of a case that occurred here several years ago," I said, eyeing her, but not addressing her. "The one that states that you are under the police's jurisdiction for indecent exposure if you commit the act while leaning out of you property, and that physical evidence of the act can serve as probable cause for jailing and trial under the court of law."  
  
Helga laughed. "Oh, something like that," Helga said. "The thing is, I don't think this chic knows that, um, we have that incriminating, physical evidence," Helga said, holding up the portfolio of pictures. Charla then gasped, as the girls on the monkey bars ganged up on her. "We also have enough of your neighbors to testify against you, if your case makes it to trial. But, then again, you're not the one who has control over that, are you?" Helga said, holding the portfolio over Charla's head and then snatching it away.  
  
Okay, so Charla was desperate now. She understood the situation. Seeing that pretty much everyone was in the playground now, and not knowing what to do about it, she finally gave in. "Okay girly, what do you want out of me? What do you want me to do?" she said, narrowing her eyes at us and frowning. Operation almost completed.  
  
I narrowed my eyes much the way that she had. "A confession, accompanied by an apology for all of those whom you have violated in your short stay here. This would include Gerald, Arnold and I, and anyone else who requests one. Short, sweet, to the point," I said flatly.  
  
Helga topped it off for me. "Up there, sister!" she said, pointing to the bench where Charla had spent many days posing and manipulating Gerald. "We'll make sure you get everybody's undivided attention." It was the perfect situation. As more kids arrived for recess, there she was, standing on the bench, about to announce that she was a fraud, a con, and an exhibitionist. Helga leaned over to me just before she started. "See, Phoebe, didn't I tell you revenge was sweet."  
  
Helga's POV:  
  
Yeah, so the Football Head and Tall Hair Boy walked out of the school just in time to hear the confession. And man, did she lay it on thick. Of course, it was filled with a bunch of bull hockey, like, "Oh...sniff, sniff...I had no idea I was doing something wrong. I've been to nude beaches in Greece, and they're used to that kind of thing." Yeah, give it a rest, sister. This is the United States of America, and unless you are employed to do otherwise, we don't hang out of windows stark naked at nine o'clock at night. Crimity, what a nutcase! So she spilled her guts, and surprisingly was sick for the rest of the week. Oh, and I wonder why? Ha!  
  
Gerald's POV:  
  
Yeah, I guess the whole confession thing was a traumatic experience for Charla, because she never spoke to me again. It was kinda coincidental, that day, because all of a sudden Phoebe could talk to me again. For a while, there was a cold civility, but in a few days she was back to her old self, smiling shyly whenever I addressed her. Now that's what relationships with girls are supposed to be like. I have learned my lesson, and from now on, I'm straying away with girls who dress tight who might challenge my authority to have the upper hand in the situation. But don't tell Phoebe I said that...I don't want to get iced again.  
  
Arnold's POV:  
  
Charla and her family moved out the Saturday of that week, almost exactly a month to the day in which she arrived. Gerald and I celebrated his single status with tickets to Wrestlemania that Phoebe had somehow dug up. It was an interesting trip...Helga and Phoebe were there, and so were Stinky, Sid and Harold. We were all in the same section, as if it were planned. And when I asked Helga about it, she said it was a surprise treat, but not to get used to random acts of kindness, that she was just in a good mood or something. I don't think I'll ever understand that girl.  
  
Stinky's, Sid's and Harold's POV:  
  
Harold:  
Yeah, that Wrestlemania show really rocked! That was the best one I've ever been to. I think this has been the best week of my life.  
  
Stinky:  
It sure was, fellers, it sure was. However, I beg to differ on it bein' the best it could'a been, on'a coun' a we never r'ally got to see dem pictures of Charla...I r'ally wanted to take a look a'dem.  
  
Sid:  
Oh, get over it, Stinky, they're gone! But, it was kind of funny that Arnold saw it...I wouldn't think Arnold was into that kind of stuff.  
  
Harold:  
Yeah, that is kinda funny. Well anyway, Wrestlemania rocked, that's all that matters now.  
  
Stinky:  
I sure do luv goin' to dat dere Rassle-mania. Almos' as much as I luv lemon puddin'.  
  
Sid:  
Stinky, enough with the Lemon pudding already!  
  
Rhonda's and Nadine's POV:  
  
Nadine:  
So yeah, I didn't even know she was moving when I saw her truck go down the street with her father and brother's car following close behind it. I thought it would have become one of our urban legends, but I guess we'll have to wait until at least next year, when we're fifth graders, for it to spread. We'll have to wait at least until then for Gerald to be able to say her name without hurling, don't you think Rhonda?  
  
Rhonda:  
Well, sure, Nadine, but the big thing that's really keeping the kids from really thinking about her is the fact that Lila has moved in. So far, she seems okay, too, except that she's poor. But, as shown before, some people just can't take being perfect. I mean, I try my best, but some people go to the extreme.  
  
Nadine:  
I wonder what happened to Charla?  
  
Rhonda:  
Who knows and who cares! One things for sure, I'm back to being the most fashionable girl at school again, and I need no competition.  
  
Nadine:  
Sure Rhonda.  
  
Rhonda:  
What do you mean sure, Nadine? I know I'm right!  
  
Phoebe's POV:  
  
And Operation Exposure officially closed its files on that Saturday. But, I've just got one thing to say...she's gone! She's gone! She's gone! And I didn't even have to kill her first.  
  
  
*Tell me what you think. Perhaps within a week or less I'll add another story to the compilation. Adios, mis hijos. 


	2. The Reel Thing, Part One

Standardized Disclaimer: I, Chinyere, under my pen name, Chinyemagne, hereby acknowledge that I do not own Hey Arnold! nor the characters that are referenced within, nor am I a hired writer with permission to use their names on this site. However, there is a likelihood that original characters will be created and portrayed within this text. Thank you.  
  
Chapter 2: The Reel Thing, Part One  
  
"Okay, we're here. X marks the spot," Arnold said, leading the rest of the gang to the location of the modest plot with a worn marker under a tree deep in Elk Island. The group that followed gasped, and hushed murmurs could be heard as they gazed at the mysterious sight. From the group emerged Gerald, eyes half-closed in usual nonchalance, with Sid following closely behind him. They all knew what was going to come next.  
  
"The Legend of Leppy, the good luck Leprechaun, has weathered a storm of criticism throughout the years since his death, but the memory of the Scotch-Irish enigma has lingered on for over five school terms, five and a half if you count the semester. And, our own Gerald, the keeper of tales and mysteries, will share his story with us today," Sid said, standing back from the group and letting Gerald take center stage. "Take it, Gerald."  
  
Gerald did not hesitate, as he stood on a decaying stump of an old tree long felled, clearing his throat quietly before facing the crowd of his peers. "Long ago, over twenty years ago, in a place unknown to many…except maybe to Peapod Kid, who vacations there annually," Gerald pointed at Peapod Kid before continuing, "a living miracle was born. His mother named him…Leopold, but as the child grew to hate that name, as any one of us in his position may, he began to go by the name Leppy, the name now and forever synonymous with magic and luck.  
  
"Leppy and his family moved to our town, which was just beginning its struggle through the unfortunate fashion craze of the eighties, when he was only five years old. Immediately upon entering PS 118, it was apparent that Leppy was special---more than special. He was supernatural. For the next four years, Leppy astounded the neighborhood kids, parents, teachers and passers-by alike, with his 'lucky charms.' By the age of nine, he claimed to be a full-fledged Leprechaun, and if it were only an act, it was convincing enough. Several of Leppy's contemporaries have testified to him having found a field of four leaf clovers and finding the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow."  
  
Gerald allowed for the routine gasps of astonishment before he continued with the story. "It was apparent that Leppy was unusually lucky, even if the whole Leprechaun thing was a little bit sketch. Up until his sixteenth year, Leppy had all the 'luck' in the world, although having the characteristic height stunt of a Leprechaun. He could have a date whenever he wanted, he had no curfew, an endless supply of money and, most of all, didn't have to attend school if he didn't want to," Gerald said, smiling as the murmurs of conversation grew louder as the story progressed.  
  
"Well, Leppy was aware of all the luck that he had acquired, and he was convinced that his living was a divine right bestowed upon him from the omniscient force above. In other words, he believed he was invincible, immortal. One thing led to another, and that very year, his sixteenth year, he found himself in a bet. One of his 'cronies,' whose name has not been pronounced to this day, bet him that if he violated all the laws of superstition, that his luck would run out," Gerald then swooped closer to his audience, adding an air of fright to the story. Inward gasps could be heard.  
  
"For the next two months, Leppy utilized the well known script of Superstitions and Urban Legends, etched into time by people like us, and was on a mission. And yea, as the weeks passed, he claimed victory over each task. Under ladders, stepping on cracks, breaking mirrors, letting hundreds of black cats cross his path and…removing moles." This time, the gang really gasped some uttering 'Ew, gross' at the thought. Gerald cracked his knuckles, preparing to end the story. "The absolute last thing on Leppy's list was…drinking a carbonated beverage and eating pop rocks at the same time." This time, the group really gasped, knowing that legend fairly well. "People begged and warned Leppy against it…his own girlfriend cried after him, but it was hopeless. In order to carry out this last act in peace, he came to this very spot on Elk Island, and was witnessed only by Sheena's uncle Earl.  
  
"Leppy, having full faith in himself, took the package of pop rocks, and dumped the whole thing in his mouth, and then took a huge mouthful of soda. What happened next is what makes the story all the more mysterious," Gerald paused, and scanned the audience, catching Phoebe's eye. He paused to raise his eyebrows at her, and she blushed bashfully, and giggled. Helga, standing next to her, rolled her eyes. "Leppy reportedly never left Elk Island. For weeks, he was missing, and search parties were organized on land, in the water, on the island itself, and after about a month, everyone pretty much gave up hope. The only trace left of Leppy, is this," Gerald said, stepping off of the stump and pacing towards the small plot.  
  
"Earl found this apparent grave sight a few weeks after Leppy's disappearance, with a marker with an inscription scratched onto it with a stone. Although the message is long worn off by the torrential rains of that year, it is said to have read, 'Here lies the memory of Leppy, leaving a pot of gold to anyone who ventures to find it.' When Earl contacted the authorities about this sight, and the grave was dug up, there were found no remains, only the clothes Leppy was wearing, and a sprinkling of gold dust," Gerald said, drawing out his words at the end. The wide-eyed crowd continued to stare at Gerald, waiting to see how this story would end.  
  
Gerald knew he had his audience, so he wrapped it up. "Some say he was just an ordinary kid with an unusually strong accent, who wanted to play a few pranks on his buddies. Others believe he was someone truly blessed with a gift he didn't fully appreciate until the water ran dry. Others say he was a divine being sent down to teach us all a little something about life," Gerald let the comment hang in air, as if contemplating it. "But, most everyone wants to believe that somewhere on this island is Leppy's pot of gold that he promised, and that it is ours for the taking. But, as it has not been found yet, the Legend of Leppy the good luck Leprechaun…continues. The end."  
  
As usual, Gerald was showered with the usual praise and applause as he descended from his pedestal as the keeper of tales, and Sid and Stinky patted him on the back. "Great job, Gerald," Sid said, as the three walked towards the edge of the crowd where Arnold was standing.  
  
"Yeah, Gerald, I mus' say I do enjoy ur spirited yarns ever' now 'n' then," Stinky said, his eyes still dreamy from imagining the story. Once Gerald met up with Arnold, they exchanged the ritual handshake.  
  
Arnold smiled with anticipation, looking back at the rest of the gang as they gathered around him. "Okay, Gerald, let's do it. Who's in with us?" Arnold asked, rallying the group. The group roared with excitement with a shout that echoed through half the island. "Well then, I say we get our coin finders and our shovels and get to work!" Arnold said, once again arousing a loud response from the crowd. As usual, Helga loomed on the outskirts of the crowd, scowling. She entered the crowd on that note and pushed Curly to the side.  
  
"One side, moron!" she said, as Curly fell to the ground. He snarled at Helga, showing his teeth but not daring to protest her cruelties. "Well, well, well, I see the Football Head and Tall Hair Boy are trying to weasel us into another one of their schemes. And man, this is the most goofy, incredible one I've heard yet. I mean, Leppy the good luck Leprechaun and the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, come on," Helga said in a mocking manner.  
  
Phoebe, always right behind Helga, had her own opinion. "I don't know, Helga, from the manner in which Gerald accounted for all of the facts of the fabled tale, with all of the eyewitness accounts and the evidence that we have all witnessed on more than one occasion, it would be reasonable to conclude that this legend is more than credible, that it is the actual truth," Phoebe said, adjusting her glasses.  
  
Helga rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and we all know why you agree so wholeheartedly, Phoebs," Helga said, eyeing Phoebe and silencing her effectively, as she hung her head.  
  
"Come on, Helga, don't you believe in anything?" Arnold asked, leaning on a shovel that he had picked up from the ground.  
  
"Well, I used to believe that bouncing spit balls off of your football head would bring me free tickets to Wrestlemania, but you see that ain't happening," Helga said sarcastically, folding her arms.  
  
Arnold sighed. "I'm serious, Helga. Don't you get any joy out of believing something, even if it may not be acutally true, but going to find out for yourself?"  
  
Helga laughed abruptly. "Ha, please! I don't go for all of that childhood innocence and wonderment stuff. In all honesty, I'd rather have my brain fried in an iron skillet." That comment somehow disrupted Eugene's sensitive stomach and, grasping his mouth, he began to run towards the shore. Once he arrived there, he could be heard vomiting, and the rest of the kids cringed with the sound. "Okay, that was just kinda gross," Helga commented.  
  
"I'm okay."  
  
Gerald spoke up. "Aw, come on, Arnold. If she doesn't want to do it, she doesn't have to do it…she can up and leave if she wants to," he said, glaring at Helga who tossed her head indignantly. "But, she's not going to keep us from doing something that we want. I don't even know why she bothered to come."  
  
"Yeah, I don't know why I bothered to come, either. Come on Phoebs, let's go throw rocks in the river," Helga commanded, grabbing Phoebe by the arm and leading her towards the shore. Phoebe looked hesitantly back at Arnold and Gerald and shrugged.  
  
"Coming," she chimed obediently, although removing her arm from Helga's grasp and going at her own pace.  
  
Arnold, as usual not being able to bear injustice, spoke up. "Wait a minute, Helga, you can't do this. If Phoebe really wanted to stay, she should stay, instead of you dragging her behind you to be your own company. You're alone with your decision not to do this, and you have to handle your decision alone, instead of dragging others behind you," Arnold said, signaling for Phoebe to return. Before running back to the group, Phoebe looked at Helga for approval.  
  
Helga finally threw her hands up in the air. "Fine, since you put it that way Football Head, I guess I'll go along with your little excursion. But, don't say I didn't warn you when you don't find anything," Helga said, as she walked slowly back to the group as Phoebe ran ahead.  
  
"Whatever you say, Helga," Arnold moaned.  
  
Helga, catching up with Arnold and Gerald, walking beside Arnold, laughed. "I wouldn't be surprised if it started raining or something," she said. And, as if it were a cue, small drops of rain began to fall. One landed on Harold's nose.  
  
"Hey, what was that on my nose!" he exclaimed, as he led the group deeper into the woods. "And one on my lip…and on my fingers…and on my arm…and on my…" Before Harold could continue his discovery, the clouds burst forth with huge raindrops, which quickly began to soak the kids.  
  
Helga looked up at the sky, and then smirked down at Arnold. "Well, if this isn't uncanny, wouldn't you say, Arnoldo?"  
  
The kids began to complain as they sought shelter in the cave of Elk Island. Over all of their complaints could be heard Rhonda. "I can't believe we got stuck in a rain storm. And after you said it wasn't going to rain, Nadine!" she shouted at her friend. "Do you realize that I am wearing my new, Caprini boots. They're going to get drenched now, and, I mean, I just bought them!"  
  
"Ah, put a sock in it Princess," Helga shouted.  
  
  
  
"Okay, and cut! That's a wrap, people!" Helga said after a few seconds of awkward silence. The uncomfortable silence was relieved as the kids began to talk again.  
  
Mr. Simmons emerged from the outside, and shook the excess water off of the camera. "Good job, class, and may I say that I am impressed by your extreme patience today under these…um…slightly unexpected circumstances. I believe that, with all of you're personal efforts and your unique, individual talents, this project will turn out…"  
  
Helga interrupted. "Yeah, yeah, sure Mr. Simmons. So, did you get the whole thing?"  
  
"Well, Helga, yes, I filmed the whole thing, and nothing's wrong with the camera this time…"  
  
Helga interrupted again. "Okay, that's all I want to know. That means filming is done for today, and you can all haul yourselves home!"  
  
Rhonda folded her arms indignantly. "And it's about time, Helga. I mean, look, I have hat hair!" she said, lifting up her hat and revealing the boarder she had on her forehead and hair.  
  
Harold also spoke up. "Yeah, and it wasn't supposed to rain, either. What's up with that?" The rest of the gang agreed loudly.  
  
Helga rolled her eyes. "Well, I have no control over the rain, doi! But, when situations like this come up in the future, you ad-lib. Like, for instance, Eugene wasn't supposed to barf in the middle of my line, but that added a pretty good touch, right?" Helga said, as Eugene crawled into the cave, more soaked than the rest.  
  
"I'm okay."  
  
Stinky scratched his head. "Wait a minute, fellers, I'm confused. What is this ad-libbin' that Helga's goin' on about?"  
  
Helga sighed in exasperation. "Do I have to tell you morons everything! Crimity!"  
  
"I'll tell them, Helga," Phoebe stepped in, taking off of her glasses to wipe the raindrops off of them. "Ad-libbing is a method of improvisation that is often employed in the theatrical arts, more often in comedies and untraditional roles than in the classical works such as Shakespeare. When one ad-libs, they extemporaneously insert their own personal flair into the dialogue or into the stage movements whenever and wherever they feel the insertion is most appropriate. The word ad-lib is an abbreviated form of the Latin ad libitum, meaning at one's pleasure. Some of the most adept performers at the art of ad-libbing include…"  
  
"Okay, okay Phoebs, sheesh! I think they get the picture. Anyway, let's get out of here while the rain is letting up," Helga said, leading the group of kids out of the cave, following Mr. Simmons to Earl's motor boat.  
  
As Helga marched towards Earl's boat, the other kids in her class followed closely behind her. Sheena, who usually didn't utter a word to Helga, ran to catch up with her. "Well, Helga, I think you are doing a fantastic job with the project, like Mr. Simmons said. I believe that perhaps you have found your natural forte," she said, clasping her hands together.  
  
Helga smirked. "Well Sheena, it's good to see that somebody appreciates all I've done," Helga said, not turning back to look at Sheena.  
  
"Well, Helga, I thought, since you haven't finished writing the screenplay and everything, that maybe you would need, I don't know, a little help coming up with the rest of the story…" Sheena suggested.  
  
"Actually Sheena," Helga began, cutting Sheena off and glaring at her out of the corner of her eye. "I have the whole thing figured out. I just have to write it down on paper and hand it to you guys the next time we film. No problem."  
  
"…because, actually, I had some pretty good ideas about where it could go." Sheena continued. "Like how about, when we actually look for the pot of gold, we discover how badly polluted Elk Island really is and try to launch a project to…"  
  
"Nope," Helga said flatly, picking up her pace to avoid Sheena.  
  
Sid then caught up to Helga. "Yeah Helga. What if you actually let us find the pot of gold, and we get all upset with each other when we can't decide how to split it?"  
  
Helga glared at Sid. "You're talking to me, Hat Boy?"  
  
"Or," Harold said, as Sid backed off, "we could have someone like Arnold become the new Leppy, and have him jumping on clouds and stuff!" Harold suggested excitedly, putting his arm on Helga's shoulder.  
  
Helga grunted and flung Harold's hand off of her shoulder. "Sure, that'll happen…when you fly, Pig Boy!"  
  
"How's 'bout we git folks kidnapped by aliens an' stuff an' we fin' out that Leppy was actually one 'a' dem aliens er somethin," Stinky said from the back of the crowd.  
  
"Nope."  
  
Eugene, getting over his nausea, emerged out of the crowd. "What if we make it into a musical, where we all get to know each other really well and bond and…"  
  
"Uh-uh."  
  
"I say we get off of this icky island and go somewhere dry and focus on something else other than stupid urban legends," Rhonda said, folding her arms.  
  
"No!"  
  
Nadine sped up to Helga, kicking a rock before beginning. "I like the idea of using the legends, but, what if we used a different one, like the one about the…"  
  
"I don't think so, Nadine," Helga jeered.  
  
Gerald stepped up, putting his arm around Helga. Helga eyed him dubiously, stopping in his tracks. "Helga, baby, how about this one. We get stranded on the island, have to live there for a few months, we have to live like a survivor thing, and just when we decide who's gonna be eaten first, we find the gold? Isn't that story solid?" Gerald said, backing off from Helga and grinning.  
  
"No, no and no!" Helga said, exploding before she scanned the group of kids. "I am the screenwriter, and this is my job. Mr. Simmons gave me the job of writing the whole story and thinking it up and everything. You are the actors, and the best boys, the prop setters and the cameramen. I am in total control of the story, it was my idea to do this anyway, and when you all agreed to participate, you agreed to work under my conditions!" Helga said, turning violently again to get a view of everyone in the class. "I was put in charge, so I run this. I can call the shots and I can pull the plug. I rule! And if anyone has a problem with that, Old Betsy will take a message and answer you after she's done writing the script. Got it!" After Helga's monologue, there was a silence. Everyone looked form face to face. "Good." Helga said, walking the rest of the way to the ship and boarding it first.  
  
As the rest of the kids silently got on the ship, Earl took notice to their demeanors. "Arg, ye seems to be a li'l bit down than when ye farst arrived," he acknowledged.  
  
Helga waived a hand at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let's just make sure we get moving, okay? I'm missing the match between Belchin' Benny and The Anomaly."  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Helga trudged down the street towards her house, Phoebe following closely behind her, although having to practically run to catch up with her. As they approached the house, Helga continued to complain about her duties as screenwriter of the class project.  
  
"I can't believe how many vultures we have in our class, Phoebs. I mean, jeez, I could barely take a step before someone was taking it for me," Helga chuckled to herself.  
  
Phoebe nodded. "Yes Helga, I noticed, but I must say that some of the suggestions that our classmates offered for the plot of the story were quite feasible, and I don't see why you turned them down so…so…tenaciously," Phoebe said, slowing as Helga slowed to a stop on her front stoop.  
  
"It took you a while to come up with that one, huh Phoebs?" Helga said, referring to Phoebe's choice of vocabulary. "Try this one on for size…the quality and or the validity of the proposed plots were not that which was in question that caused me to make the decision that I did," Helga said, leaning against her stoop, attempting to mock Phoebe.  
  
"Well…"  
  
Helga sighed. "I have no pity for them, Phoebe. I mean, who's the one working here? Who is the one who raised her hand and volunteered for the job that no one else wanted, because it was 'too hard,' or they'd 'get hand cramps' or 'break a nail' or 'uh…*inhale*…something," Helga pointed out, recalling the responses that some of her classmates had made at school. "It was me, doi! I took initial ideas for the story, but that was and is it. Anyone else who may have some idea is crap out of luck. They should have thought of that when they refused the position in class."  
  
Phoebe took this into consideration before answering. "Well, Helga, what's wrong with a few suggestions? I mean, after all, the whole point of Mr. Simmons project was that we learn to work cooperatively even when we have our own occupations with specific prerequisites. I'm sure actual screenwriters get ideas from others as well," Phoebe said, digging her feet into the dirt between the crack in the sidewalk in front of Helga's house.  
  
"Yeah, but its too late in the game now, Phoebs," Helga immediately said. "I already had to adopt the stupid Leppy the good luck Leprechaun thing for my legend, and that was perfectly ridiculous to start with. I mean, come on, a leprechaun? I swear Phoebs, one of these days, you and I could make up our own legend, and they'd eat it right up!"  
  
Phoebe laughed at that comment. "Oh yeah, like that one you thought up in the script. We could concoct an imaginative plot involving your spit balls being projected onto Arnold's head acting as some sort of foreboding to future events."  
  
Helga rubbed her chin thoughtfully before coming up with another possibility. "I've got a better one…we could employ someone…like maybe Eugene, I don't know…to be the living Cupid or something, and say that he lives down in Dorksville and you can send a letter to his address and get a potion for instant true love or something. That would be hilarious!"  
  
Before Phoebe could respond, Big Bob, who had been looking out of the sidelights waiting for Helga to arrive, burst through the door. "Crimity, Olga, what took you so long?" he explained, looking through the door down at Helga and Phoebe.  
  
"It's Helga, Dad."  
  
"Yeah, well, whatever. Anyway, you and you're little friend get inside. You're making me nervous, standing out here, like you're plotting or something," Bob said, scratching the back of his neck and allowing the girls room to squeeze inside of the house.  
  
Helga eyed her father as they entered the foyer. "Dad, you haven't been watching the Paranoia Zone again, have you?" she said, as she and Phoebe ascended up the stairs to her room. "Don't worry Dad, me and Phoebs won't be long. I'll be down in time to tape the match for you."  
  
Helga's father, a TV guide in his hand, yelled up the stairs at Helga. "And don't forget, Little Lady, tape it EP instead of SP! I don't want it to cut off again!"  
  
Helga and Phoebe passed by Miriam, who was holding her head as she joined Bob in the entranceway. "B, I swear, you do give me a headache sometimes. What are you yelling about this time?"  
  
Once Helga and Phoebe were safe in Helga's room, Phoebe glared at Helga after the scene her family had made. "Yeah, and my Dad's and idiot as well," Helga said, as if answering the question Phoebe had in her eyes. Phoebe, by now used to the Pataki shenanigans, shrugged and sat on Helga's bed.  
  
"Well, Helga, now that we are in a more concealed environment, I feel it imperative to tell you now what has been bothering me for the past few hours, if that's alright with you," Phoebe said, folding her hands in her lap and looking somewhat subdued.  
  
Helga, surprised by Phoebe's apparent revelation, sat next to her friend, joining her on the bed. "Well, Phoebe's, spill it? What's eating you?"  
  
Phoebe sighed. "Somehow I feel as if you have an idea of what I am trying to convey," Phoebe said stubbornly. Helga pondered for a while, before lighting up with a smile.  
  
"Oh, you mean that whole, 'We all know why you agree so wholeheartedly' thing!" Helga said, laughing. "Well Phoebs, I thought it was a harmless joke. I thought you could handle it…"  
  
"Well, I can't, Helga, okay!" Phoebe interjected, beginning to get excited under the topic. "I mean, I know how I feel, you know how I feel, Gerald knows how I feel, but I still feel uncomfortable revealing it in front of the entire class, and the script was a little bit…suggestive."  
  
Helga waved her hand at Phoebe. "Aw, come on, Phoebe. It wasn't that serious. I mean, it was a harmless gag, and it wasn't all that apparent what I was referring to. And if people in our class are anywhere as dense as Arnold is when it comes to those types of perceptions, you're totally safe from suspicion," Helga said, patting Phoebe on the back. "Besides, it's not like you and Gerald weren't candid with the whole thing. I'd be surprised if everyone didn't know already."  
  
Phoebe wasn't satisfied with Helga's response, holding back slight blushing. "Yes, but still Helga, regardless of what you may believe or know that people may claim to believe or know, it is the principle of the whole matter. That's why you have to promise me you'll never write that into the movie again, okay?" Phoebe said hurriedly, getting up from Helga's bed as a gesture to end the conversation.  
  
"Hey wait, Phoebs, are you sure about that?" Helga said, catching up with her friend as they both exited the room. "You know, you could use the movie as a cover for any ulterior motives, you know? Anything you want, as a matter of fact, I guarantee that I could get it written in. A hidden love story, action, suspense, what?" Helga offered graciously as she and her friend walked down the stairs.  
  
Phoebe exhaled, seeming to muse about the possibilities before shaking her head. "No Helga, as tempting as it sounds to use the script to convey the otherwise sheltered feelings that I have, I don't think it would be fair for me to have a say in your plot and not any of the others. And anyway, like you said before, the whole world knows, at least by now. I just don't want to rub it in," Phoebe said, as she and Helga reached the front door.  
  
Helga shrugged, opening the door for Phoebe. "Okay, suit yourself, Phoebs. Just remember what I told you. Anything, and you got it," Helga said, as she waved at Phoebe as she descended the front steps and walked in the direction of her own house. Helga gently closed the door and went into the living room where Big Bob had left the tape to tape the wrestling match. Thinking she was alone, Helga began to talk to herself.  
  
"Phoebe doesn't realize, none of them realize, what power I hold in my hand with the mere possession of the pen that I use to write this script," Helga said, digging both her script and her pen out of the sofa. "With this pen, I can create all sorts of realities, all sorts of dreams and goals that may never come to fruition. I could create the best horror story anyone's ever seen, with blood and guts and gore," she said, pretending to stab the pen into her stomach. "Or, I create the action flick everyone runs to see in the theaters, with my daring hero swinging on vines to save the life of the damsel in distress," Helga said, spinning around and removing her locket from her shirt. "Or, ah, it could be a romance, the story of love triumphing over hate, and all Tall Hair Boys that stand before them," Helga said, clutching her fists as she recalled all of the times Gerald had pulled her away from Arnold. "And while those cameras role, it would all be true, the real thing. But when they stop, it's all over, and I could use it for an excuse. And gradually, the world will become mine. All mine! Mua-ha he ha he ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaa!"  
  
Big Bob and Miriam, who were in the kitchen the whole time, stepped into the living room at that point, and glared at Helga. Helga stopped her evil laugh, her face dropped, and she looked back at them. For a moment, both parties were in silence. Then finally, Miriam spoke up. "On second thought, B, I think I'll stay home. I don't think we can leave Helga here alone," she said, holding her head in her hand as she shook the bottle of Tabasco sauce in her hand.  
  
Bob shrugged. "Suit yourself, Miriam. Hey, you want an egg role one the side when I order it for you?"  
  
"Bob, don't I always?" Miriam responded lethargically.  
  
"Yeah, okay, whatever," Bob said, as he exited the house. Once outside, on the porch, he muttered to himself, "That's it. The girl's a loon."  
  
Back inside, Miriam returned to the kitchen, and Helga buried herself in the couch while she feverishly wrote the script. In the background, Belchin' Benny and The Anomaly had just begun the match. Instead of watching the match, which Helga was wont to do, she was entranced by the sound of the VCR recording mechanism, as she was lulled by the sound of the tape being wound.  
  
"Okay, lets see, what comes next?" Helga thought to herself. "Oh, I know…its days later, and still no pot of gold, and Gerald says, 'Hey Arnold, man, I'm getting' sick of this," Helga said, mimicking Gerald's speech pattern, then laughing to herself. "Helga, you are a genius. Oh yeah, where was I? Here we go… 'We've been going to this island everyday this week, count them, that's Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…"  
  
  
  
"…Thursday, and Friday, Arnold! Now, its Saturday, and we haven't so much as found a lucky turd!" Gerald exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air as Arnold wiped the sweat from his brow, streaking a line of dirt across his face. "C'mon, Man. I say we just give it up. I mean, why uncover the legend of Leppy. It's a great legend," Gerald resolved.  
  
Helga, who had been lurking in the background, came to the forefront. "For once, I've got to agree with Geraldo here, Football Head," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "That whole Leppy crap was schemed up by some weirdo who liked to see kids like us foraging through this island, looking for a pot of gold that never really existed. Leppy's whole existence is dependent on saps like us who try to uncover it, fail miserably, and pass it on to the next generation of saps to do the same," Helga summarized, rolling her eyes at Arnold.  
  
Arnold put down his shovel and rested on a large rock that was conveniently behind him when he fell upon it. "I don't know, you guys. I just have a strange feeling about this thing, and I don't have those feelings about just anything. Okay, so maybe there's no pot of gold, but there's something on this island, some type of treasure that's waiting to be uncovered, and we're the ones who are going to find it!" Arnold said, smiling a little more than meekly under his fatigue.  
  
Stinky, who had been searching through the caves with a flashlight, emerged with sweat dripping down his face. "Willikers, fellers, I don' think I can take anymore of this diggin' day in an' day out stuff," he said, leaning against a tree and dropping the flashlight to the ground.  
  
Sid, who was presently fanning himself with a frond, also spoke up. "Yeah Arnold, I agree with Helga and Gerald. We tried, and we were fooled, and there's no Leppy here, and no pot of gold. Face it Arnold…I'm a sap, you're a sap, and we're all saps for believing this whole thing in the first place!"  
  
"Yeah, and besides…I'm hungry, and theirs nothing to eat on this stupid island but these stupid berries!" Harold whined, his mouth smeared with the juice of the several berries that he consumed. Suddenly, his stomach grumbled, and a look of fresh nausea clouded his face. "Oh, I don't feel so good," he gurgled, finally fainting onto the ground. Helga rolled her eyes at the site.  
  
"Okay, people, step aside, step aside!" she said, leaning over Harold. She then shook her head. "Well, Phoebs, grab me my first aid kit and lets haul this tub of lard over there before he dies or something." Helga groaned hefting Harold's entire weight under his arms and dragging him over the path to the shade of the nearest tree. Phoebe grabbed the first aid kit.  
  
"Coming!"  
  
For a while, as the rest of the class emerged from the woods, Arnold just stared at the sight. Harold passed out from eating Elk Island berries, Rhonda with her hair matted and her clothing dirty and torn, and the rest of them equally shabby looking.  
  
Arnold lit up at the sight of some of his classmates. "Look, you guys…at least some of us are happy. Look at Nadine!" Nadine dragged Rhonda along to the beach in one arm and held in another arm a large plastic container with holes punched in the lid, carrying a living praying mantis. "And how about Eugene," Arnold said, pointing as Eugene and Sheena emerged from the woods doing their characteristic choreographed step, until Eugene rolled down the beach and slammed into a rock at the bottom.  
  
"I'm okay."  
  
Arnold scanned the beach for anyone else. "Hey, where's Curly?" he asked. Everyone looked in direction of the woods. Rhonda, who became animated after Nadine splashed water in her face, responded.  
  
"Who knows and who cares! God riddance to the demented little freak," she said, crossing her arms. She then saw Nadine's praying mantis and screamed, jumping on Arnold and causing him to nearly collapse. "Nadine, get that…that…that monster away from me!"  
  
Nadine picked up the plastic container and took it under her arm, as the mantis knocked on the lid. "Aw, come on Rhonda, it's just a praying mantis. Here, take a look. Doesn't it look just a little cute to you?" Rhonda, in response to the question, screamed again. She stopped when she seemed to hear an echo. Arnold, slowly regaining his hearing and Rhonda scooted away from him, heard the second call. A rustling could be heard in the trees, and the cry got louder.  
  
The kids looked at each other, and Helga and Phoebe stopped to listen as they had revived Harold. He sat up and looked around. "What the…"  
  
"Whooooaaaaaaaaaah!" the cry screamed out again. This time, the figure making the sound emerged, and it was no other than Curly, stripped down to his boxers and wearing a loin cloth with a strap strung around his shoulders. He landed expertly on his bare feet in the sand, sliding slightly and raising sand so that after it finally settled, everyone was coated. Curly grinned brightly as he dusted himself out.  
  
"And see, Curly's having a good time, too," Arnold said, trying to liven up the spirits of his classmates.  
  
Curly pranced around his classmates, who were all sprawled out around a rock in the middle of the beach. "I tell ya, there's nothing like the fresh air and sunburn to bring that primordial spirit out in a man," Curly boasted, snapping his cloth strap as if it were suspenders. "Can't you just smell it, Rhonda," he said, leaning against Rhonda.  
  
Rhonda pushed him away. "Ew, gross, get him away from me," Rhonda said, pushing him away and grimacing. As Helga, Harold and Phoebe rejoined the group, the kids watched as spinning sand made its way across the beach.  
  
Sid's eyes widened. "What the heck is that?"  
  
Phoebe, once again, all knowing, adjusted her glasses. "Actually Sid, what you are watching is a phenomena commonly known as a dirt devil, a smaller and less ferocious version of tornadoes. Dirt devils are fairly common and harmless, although it's sort of unprecedented to have one in this part of the country." On that note, the dirt devil engulfed the group of kids, rounding up with it the sand and a little bit of moisture from the river. It seemed to hover over them before the whole thing dissolved, dropping the remaining sand over them. For a few seconds, there was a stunned silence.  
  
Stinky, who had been in silent contemplation the whole time, spoke up. "That's it, Arnold, this r'ally bites!" he said, dusting himself off, and walking towards the dock. "I'm fed up with all'a this diggin' and stuff. I quit!" Soon, the rest of the gang followed closely behind him, all muttering in agreement.  
  
"Yeah, lets all go home…and get some food!" Harold said, raising his fist. He was received with many shouts of agreement. Feeling power suddenly with his fist, he rallied the rest of the class. "Yeah, all of you can come over my house, and we'll have a party. Yeah, and we'll watch Wrestlemania on TV…my Mom taped it," the kids enthusiastically followed Harold to the dock as Earl pulled up with his boat. While they were boarding, Helga glanced back and saw Arnold still sitting there. Curious to see what was bothering him, she walked up to him quietly and joined put her hands on her hips.  
  
"Well, aren't you coming, Football Boy?" she jeered, hovering over Arnold. Helga temporarily dropped her façade when she saw that Arnold was not responding in his usual way to her tormenting. She sat on the rock above him and glared at him. "Are you okay, Arnold?" she asked, concern marking her brow.  
  
Arnold, not seeming to catch this, got up from his place in the sand and walked slowly toward the dock where the rest of the gang was waiting. "I'm just a little bit disappointed, Helga. I mean, its not like I actually expected to find a pot of gold or something, but I expected to find something better. I don't think anybody gets that," Arnold said, speeding up his pace and leaving Helga behind. Helga sighed, as if silently going through her "Oh, Arnold," routine in her head, before running to catch up with the other kids. The all got in the boat, and sat for a while, looking from one face to the other. Helga, rolling her eyes, finally spoke up.  
  
"Well!"  
  
  
  
"Oh, oh yeah, cut!" Arnold said, suddenly snapping out of the moment. With that, all of the kids loosened up, and the murmur of conversation began.  
  
"Jeez, Arnold, you'd thing if you had a part as important as director, you would remember what you were supposed to do," Helga said as Peapod Kid dismantled the camera and put it in the boat.  
  
Arnold sighed. "Well, Helga, Mr. Simmons just gave the role to me a few days ago, and I'm not used to it yet."  
  
"And I'm glad about it!" Gerald exclaimed, leaning back in the ships. "At least it isn't Helga calling all the shots," he said comfortably.  
  
Helga raised her eyebrow. "Oh yeah, Geraldo, you wanna come and say that to my face?" Helga snarled.  
  
Gerald took the challenge. "Gladly. I said, at least it isn't Helga, that's you, calling all the shots."  
  
Helga was indignant. "Oh yeah, well what do you call this one?" she said, raising her fist to Gerald's chin.  
  
"Arg, I've got the feelin' ye'd be getting' restless. Why don' we sing a song on the way home?" Earl suggested as the boat traveled along.  
  
Arnold interjected. "Yeah, and how about not."  
  
* * * * * *  
  
After the filming for the day was over and Arnold and Gerald returned from the dinners, they walked under a dusky sky. Gerald was bouncing his slightly deflated basketball on the sidewalk as they walked. "I'm telling you, Arnold, if I have to work another day under Helga G. Pataki, I'm liable to go nuts! She drives me crazy, Arnold!" Gerald exclaimed as Monkeyman passed them, running from a dog. "And you know how cool I usually am about these things. If anyone knows, you know."  
  
Arnold sighed. "I know, Gerald, but sometimes…I don't know."  
  
"What! What do you mean I don't know? Yeah, I'm cool all the time, and don't you forget it," Gerald said, stopping dribbling his basketball.  
  
Arnold shook his head. "No, it's not that. I'm talking about the way Helga acts."  
  
"Awe, man, don't worry about Helga. Worry about us, how we're going to deal with her for the next few days," Gerald said, as they stopped at an ice cream stand to get some ice cream.  
  
"I mean, I've gotten so used to Helga bugging me, me at least, that I've come almost to accept it, you know?" Arnold admitted. "It so much easier not to get mad at her and just accept that as how she acts. I don't know, sometimes I think that if she acted any other way than she does, I wouldn't know how to take it."  
  
Gerald chuckled curtly. "Well, I would…hallelujah! That's what I would say," Gerald said. He and Arnold laughed. "But seriously, Arnold, with you now as director, you realize that you can do anything you want with this, right? You can put Helga in check…not permanently, but at least while we're stuck doing this project. I mean, essentially you could say the word, and give Helga the boot!"  
  
Arnold's eyes lit up. "You know, you're right, Gerald."  
  
Gerald smiled. "I know I am. So, when are you booting her out?"  
  
"I'm not 'booting her out,' Gerald. I'm just going to talk to her, see if we can't get our differences worked out or something," Arnold said, as the two took their ice creams and headed back in the direction of Sunset Arms.  
  
"You're a bold kid, Arnold. A boooold kid."  
  
"That was a long one."  
  
"Yeah, well, I felt you were deserving."  
  
  
  
Not done, not done, not done! Still has more plot to go, but it got a little long. Let me know what you think, and I'll see if I can't finish it next weekend or so. See yah! 


End file.
